


Carnelian

by petercapaldiscoiffure



Series: Emeline Trevelyan [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood, F/M, Rough Sex, incidental dragon blood, not theirs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petercapaldiscoiffure/pseuds/petercapaldiscoiffure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-dragon fight sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carnelian

**W** hen he takes her against the rocky alcove just down the way from the body, the stench of burning meat is still thick in the air and his hands are covered in the sickly carnelian of dragon's blood still slick.

When he'd called her over -  _Boss, come here, will you?_  - she'd told an exhausted Varric and Cassandra to head down to the water without them - _no, go on, clean the offal and stink off_ , she'd said, and headed over to see what the fuss was about. He'd watched them leave and her arrive and when they'd gone his hands were in her hair, his mouth was on hers between murmurs and laughs, Qunlat and common entwined.  _You should have seen your face, the way you stared it down, the smell of you is fucking obscene, it's fine, they'll bitch at each other for hours if we let them, spread your legs now, there you go._

It's absurd and entirely untoward, but Maker, her adrenaline is still pumping and he just  _does_  something to her. So she can't help but melt into him before she's grasping at his shoulders, dull nails clawing at him while he's pulling at her shirt and undoing the laces of her pants. When he turns her and presses her forward against the rocks, her mind is there but her body is just slightly slow to catch up - when he pushes into her she whimpers as she feels every pull and stretch while it struggles to accommodate him, and it's not all pleasure. But that's it's own sort of pleasure too, she thinks, and presses back all the same.  When his bloodied hand comes up to wrap around her throat, thumb stroking her fluttering pulse almost tenderly, she sighs. When his other raises to twist the tip of her breast rough enough to make her jerk back, she moans and then - _then_  her body is ready and wet as spring. And not for the first time she wonders if there's something deeply wrong with her, or him, or maybe the both of them together. But as he pulls out then, slow and aching, only to thrust back hard enough to make her eyes roll back, she can't really bring herself to care.

What follows is harsh and fast, a little painful and underneath it all, bone deep satisfying - a shadow of the fight that came before. He sets a brutal pace and she follows, encouraging and teasing with every roll of her hips. Long years in the Circle have trained her to keep her voice down, lips bit til they're swollen and red, red to match the marks he's left all over her shoulders with his own flat white teeth. She can just hear their companions faint in the distance, arguing over Maker knows what, and closer still the sounds of birdsong, fire crackling and skin on skin. Then he angles his hips with a sharp jerk and one hand drifts lower, lower, lower till it's between her thighs and there's nothing left but his heavy breath in her ears and white hot heat behind her eyes.

\---

After, he helps clean her up, gentle as a lamb and just as sweet, buttons and laces done up with massive fingers deft as any lady's maid, and she almost has to stop herself from giggling. If she walks on slightly wobbly legs, he reaches out to grip her waist til she's steady, and pulls her in to lean against his side. Maybe she looks up at him and smiles small, suddenly a little shy, and he grins right back, never shy in the least. And when they turn the corner, they separate as quickly as they met, needy hands and desperate eyes back to business and looking forward.

_Thanks for checking that with me, Boss._

_You're welcome, Iron Bull._


End file.
